


Median Ejaculation Times In Varying Sexualities

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Au: uni, Cockslut Sherlock, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Jealous John, M/M, Pining John, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock sucks a lot of cock, Smut, Unilock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock sucks a lot of cock. He's doing a study on ejaculation, after all. John needs a new place to live. Could they make it as roommates? </p><p>Idea from this post:</p><p>http://commudad.tumblr.com/post/101187441905/on-the-other-hand-sherlock-being-really-in-tune</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice To Meet You, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



John rushed down the hall and out the front door as quickly as his legs would take him. It was his first day assisting Professor Stamford and he was going to be bloody late. Onto his bike, helmet in hand, and across town he went. 

When he made it to the science wing fifteen minutes later he tossed his bike down and ran inside in just enough time to interrupt a quite handsome younger student in what sounded like a dissertation on professor Stamford's weaknesses. 

"Sorry I'm late." He whispered, passing Mike a thermos of tea and taking a seat next to his desk. 

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, your refusal to lend out lab equipment throws into question the school's feelings towards its less than wealthy students and I think makes you all look-" the boy continued. 

"Sherlock, you know it's only you I won't lend out to. Remember the last time you borrowed a microscope?" Mr Stamford said with a small smile. 

"You...you...you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs!" Sherlock spit defensively. 

"Eggs don't usually cost two thousand quid a piece." John said with a snort. 

The boy stood and walked angrily from the lecture hall and Mike started up class. 

_____

After class John waited around and finally got to ask the question he'd been dying to. 

"Who was the kid at the start of class that broke the microscope? I don't think I've seen him around." he said. 

Mike chuckled and pushed his glasses up his nose. "That's Sherlock Holmes. He transfered in while you were gone this summer. Spit fire, that one. Is looking for a roommate, though." 

John nodded slowly and excused himself. 

He was halfway to his next class when he ran into the boy. A few of the idiots from his maths class were surrounding him and posturing like a bunch of junk yard dogs. 

"What's going on, Sebastian?" John asked as he neared the group. 

Sebastian Wilkes spun around with a scowl and looked John up and down. 

"What do you want, Watson?" he growled. 

"I need to borrow Mr Holmes for a bit. We're roommates." John answered with a gentle smile. 

Sebastian nodded to his comrades and the group grumbled and walked away. John took a step forward and held his hand out. The boy looked at it carefully and stuck his own hands in his pockets. 

"Why are you sticking up for me?" he asked sheepishly. 

"I don't know. Why was Seb out for blood?" John shot back. 

"I won't suck his cock." the boy said, shoulders suddenly back and looking quite confident. 

It took John a second to get his bearings. 

"Did he...did he ask you to suck his, um, suck him?" he stammered. 

"No, he just assumed I would and dropped trou in the library men's last night." Sherlock replied, looking at his nails. 

"Why would he, what the, why would he assume you would?" John asked, feeling rather scattered about this whole conversation. 

"Cause I suck everyone's cock. Bit of a hobby. I'm studying the general population of the school for a paper I'm writing on median ejaculation times in varying sexualities." Sherlock replied. 

John choked on his own saliva and turned an interesting shade of pink at that. 

"I also play the violin and sometimes don't talk for days. Would that bother you?" Sherlock added. 

John seemed to shake off the bit of shock and cleared his throat. "What do you mean, would it bother me?" he asked. 

"Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other, don't you think? Cock, violin, lack of verbal response. Are you in or out?" Sherlock replied quickly. 

"How did you know I need a place to live? Did Professor Stamford tell you?" John asked, baffled as to the turn the already bizarre conversation had taken. 

"You told me yourself. Late for class the first day. Stain on your inner calve; rode your bike. Out of breath, but your well muscled so the ride couldn't have been short. Pretended to be my roommate; no one to prove you a liar. A few other things too, but I have to be on my way. Here's the address, I'll meet you there at five." Sherlock said as he scribbled a note on John's hand with a biro and strode away.


	2. You're Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to meet Sherlock at Baker Street and the boys fall into the same pattern they always seem to.

John stood on the kerb looking up at the building for a whole ten minutes before he told himself to just bloody cock. Knock, Jesus, he knocked. He stood a bit flustered and knocked again before an older woman with a smile opened the door. He was about to explain that he was obviously at the wrong flat when the door up the stairs opened and a short boy with ginger hair and red cheeks adjusted his flies and brushed past John with a quiet apology. John stared wide eyed as Sherlock opened the door and wiped a bit of saliva from his bottom lip.

"John, thank you for being late. I was just finishing up an experiment," Sherlock said, "come on up, I'd better brush my teeth."

The older woman huffed and rolled her eyes before looking over at John.

"I'm not here for-that is, he's not going to-" John stammered.

"Oh, I know, dearie. Sherlock's been talking about you all day. Bit of trouble, he is," the woman said, "I'm the landlady, Mrs Hudson."

John straightened his rucksack and shook her hand just as Sherlock poked his head out the door, toothbrush in mouth, and glared at them. John smiled at Mrs Hudson and nodded up the stairs and she pushed him along. He made it up and stood awkwardly while Sherlock rinsed his mouth, at least John hoped it was his mouth, in the bathroom sink.

"So he was here to..." John started, hoping to be wrong about his assumption.

"Get his dick sucked, yes. Barely lasted a minute, but then again, I have just perfected deepthroating. Seems to be a hit," Sherlock said with a grin.

"Oh..." John replied, eyes wide.

"You don't have to look so scandalized. It's not like a person my age shouldn't have a relatively high sex drive," Sherlock said, flopping onto the couch and gesturing for John to sit in one of the chairs.

John honestly didn't know what to say so he really shouldn't have said anything at all. Instead he said, "so you have an, um, high sex drive?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, not really. Haven't found anyone I'd actually like to have sex with yet. Everyone at this university is so dreadfully dull," Sherlock replied, waving his hand dismissively.

John shut his mouth with a loud click and held his bag over his lap, hoping Sherlock wouldn't notice his burgeoning arousal. Sherlock did, but chose to say nothing as everyone around him seemed to be in a constant state of arousal.

"I'll show you your room," Sherlock said as he stood and filled the kettle with water, "tea?"

"Oh, yes, ta," John said, standing and brushing down the front of his denims with a well disguised groan.

Sherlock walked to the stairs and John followed him up and into a small room. It was extremely tidy, unlike the rest of the flat, and sparse.

"You'll have to bring your own bedding unless you'd like to sleep in Mrs Hudson's old sheets. As you can tell, the university it quite close. The fireplace works, of course, and you'll be able to keep your bike in the downstairs hall," Sherlock said, gesticulating in a bored manner.

"Oh, well this looks nice. Maybe once we clean out all the stuff downstairs-" John said.

Sherlock shot down the stairs and John found him piling up papers and instruments.

"This is all yours then?" John asked.

"I'll, um, move it out of the way," Sherlock replied, sticking a stack of suspiciously unopened bills to the wall with a hunting knife.

The kettle went off and John joined Sherlock in the kitchen as he poured the water into two mugs and passed John the sugar.

"Have you got milk in?" John asked.

"Mrs Hudson brought some the other day," Sherlock replied as he moved back to the sitting room, "should be in the fridge next to the specimen jars full of mice."

"Sorry, mice?" John asked with a frown.

"They aren't alive," Sherlock said as if that would quell John's discomfort.

John opened the door to the fridge and carefully removed the milk before pouring some in his tea and putting it back. He tried not to look too closely and promised himself he would broach the subject of having separate areas for experiments and food another time. He went to sit across from Sherlock and looked around the room.

"So you just transferred in. What are you studying?" he asked.

"Human psychology with a minor in forensics," Sherlock replied, looking John over carefully, "and you're wondering why I transferred."

"Oh, well, yes actually," John confirmed.

"I believe it was a combination of borrowing a corpse from the morgue and being found on my knees with the whole of the football team waiting for a turn. Universities are really quite puritanical these days. And I use condoms, since you were undoubtedly concerned, pre-med and all," Sherlock drawled easily as if it were a story he had to tell often. 

John's mouth hung open for the third, no, fourth time that day and he almost had to shut it with his hand. He looked away for a moment and cleared his throat.

"So, will you move in tonight or tomorrow?" Sherlock asked as he sipped his tea.

"Well-" John began as the front door was flung open.

An out of breath boy closed it behind him and wheezed out a, "are you Sherlock Hol-" before passing out.

John went to the boy's side and checked his pulse as Mrs Hudson scurried in and shrieked. Sherlock rolled his eyes and went to push her out the door.

_____

Five hours later John chuckled as he closed the front door and collapsed against the wall next to Sherlock. They'd just outrun an angry husband and made it out of a yard with a large dog and John had never felt more alive.

"You're an absolute fool," John said with a grin, "we should have never gone after the man by ourselves."

"We're still alive, aren't we?" Sherlock asked, mirroring John's grin.

"Barely," John said with a snort, "do you do this often, chasing around men twice your size?"

"Often enough," Sherlock replied, still breathing hard.

"You're mad," John said, elbowing Sherlock in the ribs and sighing deeply.

Sherlock shrugged and pulled his mobile from his pocket when it went off. He sighed and seemed to think something over before turning back to John.

"I have an appointment," he said, "he'll be here in ten minutes. I'd rather like to get dinner but I think this should take precedence. Should only be about twenty minutes, first timer and all. If you stay we could get takeaway."

"You're going to-" John began, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, "in the bedroom of course. I'll be quiet, what with my mouth full, but I can't make any promises when it comes to him."

John swallowed hard, all the glee from the chase disappearing.

"No, I should probably go," he said.

"Oh. Alright. I'll see you tomorrow in English lit," Sherlock replied glumly.

"We have it together?" John asked.

Sherlock pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket and passed it over, "seemed so."

John looked at his class schedule and shook his head, "I'll see you then," he said as he slipped into the flat and came back out with his rucksack.

"Goodnight, John," Sherlock said.

"Goodnight, Sherlock. Stay safe."

_____

John made it home a little over a half hour later and tossed his rucksack by the door. He slumped against the wall and rubbed the heels of his hands around his eyes. He was being stupid, childish even. He had no right to be jealous over some idiot Sherlock was going to...no, don't think about that. Christ.

He'd barely known the boy for half a day and he was already lost. He was gorgeous, yeah, but that wasn't even the half of it. He was strange and brilliant and impossible in so many ways. John wanted to ask him why he was just lending himself out like this, how he could do it all without a second thought, with no emotion. He would probably say it was for science.

John walked to his bed and fell back on it. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes.


	3. Bad Jokes And Tea

John was chewing on his pen when Sherlock walked into the room sporting a grin and mussed up hair. He looked right and left and then once behind him to find that yes, Sherlock Holmes was there for him. He swallowed and wiped the biro on his denims.

"Hey," he said weakly as Sherlock moved closer, seeming to suck the air from the room as he did.

"John," Sherlock returned, picking up John's rucksack and upturning it on the counter.

"Oi!" John shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing the now empty bag from the floor at Sherlock's feet.

"Shh!" the librarian scolded from her small cart.

Sherlock found a bag of crisps and sat on the floor behind the table to eat them out of sight as John packed everything back up and zipped his bag closed.

"You didn't come to English today," John noted as he grabbed the crisp bag from Sherlock and slid to the floor next to him.

"I didn't feel like it. I have an important experiment going at home and I can't be spending all my time sitting around listening to idiots talk about things they already know," Sherlock said, licking his finger's obscenely and smiling when John was caught looking.

"It's the beginning of the semester," John said pointedly as he popped a crisp into his mouth and passed the bag back over.

Sherlock shrugged and went about emptying the rest of the crisps into his mouth in one fell swoop. 

"You can't just skip class whenever you like," John said with a sigh, resting his head against the wall and watching as Sherlock wet his finger and carefully removed every bit of cheese powder from the bag.

"Yes, I can," Sherlock countered dramatically, "and I will. Do you know why, John Watson?"

John rolled his eyes and played along, "I don't know, Sherlock Holmes, why?"

"Because this university is a shoddy product," he said, nodding as though he'd made complete sense.

"I don't follow," John replied.

"I'm paying my way-" Sherlock began.

"You mean your parents," John interrupted with a smirk.

"What I meant was that money from my family is being given to the school for the purpose of paying for my learning. Therefore, I am the consumer. As the consumer, it is required that I give constant feedback as to my opinion of the quality of the product. If I were to go to all my classes on time and every time it would give the university the idea that they were putting out a good product. Do you know what that would mean?" Sherlock extrapolated.

"Should I?" John asked.

"You've taken basic economics, I'd hope so," Sherlock replied indignantly.

"Enlighten me," John teased.

"That would mean that they would stop trying to improve the product. The school wouldn't get any better, the idiot teachers would keep their jobs and the student body would slowly degrade until the whole of it couldn't pronounce 'interrogation'. It would break down the entire system." Sherlock replied in an uppity manner.

"Oh, so you're helping," John said, trying to hold in the laugh that was attempting to pour from his lips.

"Exactly," Sherlock replied, shit eating grin resurrected.

"You do know you're a lunatic, don't you?" John said, pushing Sherlock with his shoulder.

"And you're an enabler," Sherlock countered, "move in with me."

When John didn't reply Sherlock looked over at him with the most pathetic wobble of a lip John had ever seen. John pushed him again and started giggling.

"Fine!" he hissed between bouts of laughter.

Sherlock perked up at that and stood, slipping his bag onto his shoulder and thrumming with anticipation.

"Christ," John said, "you meant now?"

"Of course," Sherlock said, moving from foot to foot as if he might either take off running or piss his pants.

John shook his head but stood none the less and followed the boy out of the building to the bike rack. 

"You didn't take a cab?" John asked as the taller student pulled a gorgeous black model out and lifted one long leg to mount it.

"No, mummy got me this," Sherlock said with a scrunched up nose, "says perhaps it'll help me work off the extra energy."

He looked up when John didn't respond to see the boy gawping at him.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"That's a Cannondale," John said with wide eyes.

"Yes, the black inc range," Sherlock agreed.

"That's a three thousand pound bike," John added.

"Stop staring, John, it's not decent. Someone'll think you've got it up for gears," Sherlock said with a wink.

John have him a two finger salute, grabbing his beat up bike and getting on.

"Lead the way, my liege," he dead panned.

Sherlock gave a small snort before starting off without even looking in the direction he was going, "you've been there twice, John, you should know the way by now."

"I was being funny!" John shot back.

"Oh, that's what you call it?" Sherlock teased just as John pulled ahead.

"You wouldn't know a good joke if one kicked you in the arse!" John shouted over his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah?" Sherlock asked, "how about this one? A vampire walks in on and man he's never met before writhing on the ground."

"Is this going to take long?" John interrupted.

"Shut up!" Sherlock shouted, "so the vampire asks what's wrong and the man says he's turning into a vampire. The vampire says that's impossible because he hasn't bit him yet. What does the man say?"

"Christ, you couldn't just go for a knock knock?" John replied.

"What does the man say?" Sherlock insisted.

"I don't know," John acquiesced, "what did the man say?"

"Premature edraculation," Sherlock said just as he sped past John.

John choked on his own saliva and gave the race up for good as they rounded the corner. When Sherlock hopped the kerb and jumped off right at the front stoop he wore a huge smile and bright red cheeks. John nearly choked again at that and was proud of himself for not falling off his bike or running into a pole.

"It's a mix between the word ejaculation and Dra-" Sherlock said proudly.

"Yes!" John stopped him, "I got it."

Sherlock looked concerned for a second and cleared his throat, "was it a good joke?"

John slapped him on the shoulder and walked into the building, "yes, surprisingly enough, it was."

Sherlock's smile came back, an almost innocent one this time, before he schooled his features a bit and scoffed, "it's really not your fault I'm better than you at everything."

"Oh, stuff it!" John said good-naturedly, leaning his bike against the interior wall.

"Boys!" Mrs Hudson chirped, drying her hands on a dish towel, "I've made food."

"I already ate," Sherlock said, kissing Mrs H on the forehead gently before taking the steps two at a time.

John nodded to the woman and followed him up.

Sherlock was standing anxiously next to the sofa with his hands clasped behind himself when John made it to the landing.

The room, and by God, there was a room under all the previously strewn detritus, wasn't clean, per se. What it was was clear. The boxes piled high had been moved from sight and, although much of it was still under a fairly thick layer of dust, there were places to sit and places to set a cup or magazine. The books were all on the bookcases, although stacked precariously, and the papers to do with cases were almost, but not quite, spilling out of a new file drawer near the window.

"You cleaned," John said, bewilderment in his voice, because it was obviously Sherlock that had done so and not the landlady.

"Well, I thought," Sherlock began.

John walked over and fell into an armchair with a wide grin. Sherlock nodded once and went to put some water on for tea.

"I won't do it often," he said from the kitchen.

"Understood," John replied, "and will you be doing that often, making tea?"

Sherlock scoffed and stood a bit more confidently, "well, someone has to and you're obviously quite lazy."

John laughed and rested his head against the back of the chair.


End file.
